Page 63 of The Sinner and the Priest: Part Two

By some miracle, the timer still ticks.

My fingers dart for the hem of my dress, hiking it up, but Cisco is faster. He hauls me to my feet, spins me, and bends me over the table with a force that leaves me breathless.

“Wha-at?” I gasp.

“You thought it was your turn?” he growls into my ear. “You did not earn it.”

I buck and twist, but he’s too strong.

He folds over me, keeping me trapped with his weight, and seizes my wrists. He moves my hands above my head and pins them flat, fingers over fingers.

He keeps me smashed there, utterly helpless, every nerve ending screaming. My head faces the window, and I see the moonlit piazza outside. People stroll past, couples laugh, life keeps moving. If anyone looked in right now, I’d be screwed.

I’m kidding. I’d probably love it.

“Maybe I gave in too early.” He moves my wrists to one hand so he can fumble in his pocket with the other. His hand appears before my face, holding something small. “Maybe you think you still have a backup plan with these in my bag.”

The silhouette is hard to make out in the dim light, but it looks familiar.

“Is that my plug?”

He brings it closer. Black, silicone, and with beads. It’s the vibrating one with a twist jewel cap.

“It’s mine now,” he announces.

“You can’t just⁠—”

He shoves it in my mouth and snarls, “If you want to use me like your plastic, then I will be the one to use it on you. Me.”

His forehead lands heavily between my shoulder blades, and he releases a muffled, pained groan—almost a whimper of defeat.

I’m so stunned, I don’t know what to do.

Tick, tick, tick, tick.

“Miserere mei,” he murmurs. “Mea culpa. Maybe I was not clear about your reward, and this is why you punish me.”

I spit the plug out. “Me! Punish you?”

He eases off me, but says nothing. I remain there, too afraid to move. Have I broken him? Is he done with me?

Already?

“I have not seen my family in a decade, and my uncle is coming to kill them.” The anguish in his voice makes my eyes close. “I have left my team behind. I have failed my God, lost my way with the Church, lost control of my curse and killed, and yet . . .” His palm grazes my left buttocks, squeezing the flesh. “The only time I truly feared was when I thought you went to a demon rather than wait for me.”

“I told you⁠—”

“I know. Mea culpa.” He once again crowds me with his body, smoothing his hands over my arms. “What I am not saying right, Mercy, is that I was jealous. Angry. Insane. It made me realize there is nothing in this world I want more than you. Nothing. But I am afraid, too. I don’t want you to see my monster and run.” He collects the plug and twirls it before my eyes. “Even the thought of this plastic replacing me is unbearable. I don’t want to lose you, and I think that I will. Maybe not today, maybe not for years. But eventually, I will.”

My eyes sting, and I soften. Didn’t I just think the same thing earlier?

“I won’t leave you,” I whisper. “I promise.”

“Bene.” He nibbles on my earlobe. “Because when I say ‘whatever you want,’ I am telling you the same thing. I will give you my body.” He drags in a shuddering breath, exhaling across my sweat-damp upper back. “I will give you my blood.” He trails kisses down my spine. “I will give you my collar, anima mia.”

My soul.

“Cisco . . .”